


Soarin', Flyin'

by mjonesing (klassmartin)



Series: What team? Wildcats! [1]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: F/M, I do not know how to tag this so I'm not going to try, crack fic treated seriously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:28:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28490145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klassmartin/pseuds/mjonesing
Summary: “I don’t really sing,” he’s saying to the host, “Really, this is nice but -”“Rules are rules, guys!” The host hands him a microphone and presses a button on a remote, the screens littered about the room lighting up with the beginning lyrics of a song. “You know, Someday you guys might thank me for this.”Michelle’s knuckles are white as she clutches at the mic with both hands, but she has enough sense left to scoff.The host shrugs. “Or not.”-----Or: The High School Musical AU that absolutely no one asked for but I wanted and everyone encouraged.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Series: What team? Wildcats! [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2086932
Comments: 20
Kudos: 26





	Soarin', Flyin'

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry.
> 
> I'm not, but...
> 
> This is SUPER unedited because I'm trying to post before midnight AH. Like, I spelt the title wrong levels of unedited.

“Michelle Jones, is that a book I see in your hands? Again?”

She sighs, barely lifting her head. “I’m almost done, Mom.”

“You said that an hour ago.” Mrs Jones points to the bustling clusters of people rushing around the lobby of the ski lodge, already dressed to the nines with elegant yards of shiny fabric and sharp, tailored suits that probably cost more than three month’s rent on her old house. “Come on, ‘Chelle. You’re already going to be late.”

“That’s kinda the idea.” But Michelle lets her mom snatch the book from her grasp, dragging herself up from the armchair beside the fire and sighing dramatically. “I don’t see why I have to go to this stupid party.”

“You need the socialisation skills.” Her mom drops the serious squint to her eyes and softens at Michelle’s pained expression. “Come on. I’ve laid out your dress already. If you’re quick, I’ll do your hair.”

* * *

“Boys?”

“Keep working left, Peter. We’re expecting a guard in the championship game and you’ll torch him!”

“By going left?”

“He looks down the middle, you take it downtown.”

“Like this?” Peter effortlessly dribbles the ball around his Uncle Ben, sweat running down his face as he takes aim and scores.

Uncle Ben catches the ball and loops it under one arm, slapping his palm against Peter’s. “That’s it, son! Keep working on it, I wanna see that in the game.”

“Boys!” May Parker steps a little further into the gym, her sparkling evening gown swishing dreamily around her ankles. “Did we really fly all this way for you to play more basketball?”

The pair glance at each other before nodding. “Yeah.”

Aunt May rolls her eyes fondly. “It’s the last night of vacation, and it’s New Year’s Eve. The party? We’re going to be late.”

“Right. Yes, of course, my love.” Uncle Ben wipes his brow and squeezes his nephew’s shoulder. “Come on, Peter. You gotta kids party to get to.”

Peter wrinkles his nose. “Kids party?”

“Young adults,” Aunt May corrects. “Now let’s go. You both need a good shower.”

Making a grab for the ball in one sudden move, Peter bounces on his toes as his Uncle Ben immediately goes back on the defensive. “Last one, May.”

She sighs. “Make it quick.”

“Against this old man? It’ll take seconds.”

* * *

The party is in full swing when Michelle finally walks into the Freestyle Club, more people crowded into the space than she realised were in the whole of the resort. She tugs nervously at the hem of her dress, an older possession of hers from before her growth spurt at fourteen. Her mom hadn’t bothered to listen to her objections about wearing it, disregarding her daughter’s wishes for the jeans she’s spent the last week living in because  _ it’s a party, Michelle, put in some effort. _

She almost bumps into a fellow partygoer, a boy maybe a year older than her, who tips his ridiculously large cowboy hat at her and says with an affected twang, “Howdy, ma’am.”

An hour. All she has to do is show her face for an hour, gasp at the fireworks, and then she can go back to her room.

Settling into a spare seat on the sofa, Michelle sighs with contentment. Just because she has to show her face, it doesn’t mean she can’t try to finish her book before the countdown.

“Alright! How was that for a couple of snowboarders?” Applause floods the room as two people step down from a little stage she hadn’t noticed on the way in, a resort worker she recognises from the ski rental collecting two microphones from them. “Great job! Now, who’s going to be the unlucky pair who have to beat that performance?”

Michelle grimaces at the thought of karaoke, burrowing back a little further into her seat and lifting her book higher, except -

A spotlight.

It shines directly into her eyes, blinding her to any of the encouraging hands that push her up and forwards and suddenly there’s something behind placed in her hand and - 

She’s on a stage.

What the absolute fiddlesticks.

It’s her worst nightmare.

“No, no. I -” Panic flares hot and fast in her gut, only exacerbated by the wide brown eyes of the boy stumbling onto the stage beside her.

He’s sweet, a boyish face that looks as bewildered as she feels, strong shoulders nicely filling out his royal blue shirt.

“I don’t really sing,” he’s saying to the host, “Really, this is nice but -”

“Rules are rules, guys!” The host hands him a microphone and presses a button on a remote, the screens littered about the room lighting up with the beginning lyrics of a song. “You know, Someday you guys might thank me for this.”

Michelle’s knuckles are white as she clutches at the mic with both hands, but she has enough sense left to scoff.

The host shrugs. “Or not.”

The track plays out the opening notes of a piano. The boy at her side slumps, accepting his fate, and clears his throat. “ _ Living in my own world, didn’t understand _ ,” he sings, scratching his cheek as he averts his gaze from the hundred or so eyes that watch them. “ _ That anything can happen, when you take a chance. _ ”

It’s because of him that she takes a deep breath, closes her eyes and gives in to her circumstance. If this terrified boy is willing to find the courage to sing with her, so can she.

“ _ I never believed in what I couldn’t see. I never opened my heart to all the possibilities…” _

Yuck. How cheesy is this song?!

But the boy smiles at her, something earnest and surprising, and then they’re singing together, voices blending and twirling together in a way that sounds appeasing even to her own ears. The music begins to reach a crescendo, the crowd beginning to dance along, and Michelle feels herself getting lost in the song. Yes, it’s corny, but the atmosphere warms her despite the snow piled high outside the windows; the way he begins to sway to the music with a cheeky grin. She can’t help laughing at him - at this whole, bizarre situation - especially when he shimmies his hips and steps towards her, a newfound confidence that she definitely isn’t feeling but is feeding off of.

“ _ I never knew that it could happen ‘til it happened to me, oh yeah,”  _ he sings, impressing her with his vocals even as he steps a little too close, making her stumble back, a member of the crowd stopping her from toppling right off the stage.

He shakes with his laugh as she picks up her turn singing.  _ “I didn’t know it before, but now it’s easy to see, yeah _ .”

The crowd whoop and cheer, but she barely hears them over the thudding of her heart as they hit the final chorus, playing off of the boy’s carefree nature. How she’s missed him around the resort for the past week is beyond her - he doesn’t seem like the kind of person to melt into the background, not when he’s like this. He’s having fun, and seeing him enjoying himself is enough to make her realise just how much she is. 

Her book is forgotten. Her plan for a quiet, lonely New Years is lost.

She’d rather be here, singing with a stranger for all to see, falling into the unfathomable depths of his eyes.

_ “That it’s the start of something new, it feels so right to be here with you, oh. And now, looking in your eyes, I feel in my heart, the start of something new.” _

The music fades, the world fades, and for a moment it’s just them.

Then the host hops onto the stage and claps them both on the back, and the noise of the crowd thunders in her ears as they’re ushered from the stage.

The boy stumbles over his feet slightly to follow her, stepping into her path to hold out his hand towards her. “Hi, I’m Peter.”

“Michelle.” She accepts his handshake and presses her lips together in a shy smile, starting to walk towards the balcony in search of some fresh air to cool the flush to her cheeks. “That was -”

“So cool, right?!”

“I was going to say weird.” But she laughs to ease the bite of her words, Peter rubbing the back of his neck as he chuckles.

He follows her out, tucking his hands into his pockets. “You’re a singer right? Some kind of professional?”

“Heck, no.” Michelle wraps her cardigan around her a little tighter, looking out to the slopes in the distance. “I mean, I tried once in a school play. They gave me a solo and I nearly fainted.”

“Why was that?”

“All those people looking at me? No, thank you.” She shudders with the memory. “But you - right? You were so good.”

“Oh yeah, I mean, no.” Peter blushes and bites on his bottom lip. “My showerhead is very impressed?”

“Ah, I see.” She nods and glances to him, turning swiftly away when she sees him already looking back. “Well, I -”

“ _ 10, 9, 8 -” _

“Midnight already?” Peter rocks onto the balls of his feet, the move bringing him a little closer to her side. “Time flies, huh?”

She hums her agreeance, picking at the chipped polish of her thumbnail. She knows what midnight means. She’s sixteen but she’s not an idiot.

Will he try to kiss her?

Does she want him to?

_ “- 3, 2, 1, Happy New Year!” _

They stand there, staring but unsure, and it’s only when the moment fades that she realises the answer to her questions.

“I uh, I should go see my mom,” she says, pointing over her shoulder towards the exit.

“Yeah, me too. I mean, my Aunt, not your mom.” Peter coughs and blushes a deeper shade of ruby red. “I, I’ll call you? Can I call you?”

“Oh! Yeah, sure.” They exchange phones and she adds herself into his contacts, fingers trembling with the cold -  _ only  _ with the cold - and then she turns, rushing away from the balcony before she can second guess giving her number to a complete stranger.

It doesn’t matter, not really.

After all, there’s something new about to start tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't look at me. I'm ASHAMED of this.
> 
> @mjonesing on Tumblr as always!


End file.
